


your hair looks just like starlight

by neenswrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Haikyuu Girls Week, Model Alisa Haiba, Prompt 1: Fashion, Stylist Miwa Kageyama, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26169556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neenswrites/pseuds/neenswrites
Summary: Miwa’s eyes followed the motion unthinkingly, and she was met with a model slowly rising from her seat at the station two spots from her own. She was plenty tall, and her hair was plenty long, and she had a smile almost as bright as her brilliant green eyes.Miwa’s eyes lingered over her for a moment longer than was necessary, before she tilted her head back down and grabbed the gold glitter instead.She saw beautiful women every day. This one was nothing to get worked up about.-Miwa sees Alisa for a brief moment during Tokyo Fashion Week and thinks little of it. And then they meet again. And again. And again.
Relationships: Haiba Alisa/Kageyama Miwa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	your hair looks just like starlight

**Author's Note:**

> furudate gave us one extra of miwa and alisa and it has consumed my waking days
> 
> ty to [christy](https://twitter.com/kodzukuro) aka my favorite person for beta reading this for me ilyyyyyy
> 
> this is just very soft and full of longing and i hope u like this taste of the sapphic experience alsdjfasdf

The lights were harsh backstage at Tokyo Fashion Week. Miwa was accustomed to this, she had been doing the event for the past three years after all - but that didn’t mean she liked all of it. Her brows furrowed instinctively at the intensity of their rays, and her arms broke out with goosebumps as she walked under another vent to her next station. 

Tokyo Fashion week had been a dream come true for Miwa when she’d first been selected, and she was still honored she got to be here. The thrill of seeing a completed makeup look come together, the pride she got when a designer lit up when they saw how she styled a model’s hair, the buzz from the excitement everyone was feeling - none of that ever dulled.

But the lights, and the blasting AC to keep the models from sweating, and the moving from station to station as she became more and more popular all felt much less exciting.

A flurry of models passed in front of Miwa then, all gorgeous, and all wearing beautiful gowns.

There was that too. Miwa worked in the beauty and fashion industry. She saw beautiful women every day. She learned quickly that a beautiful woman was sometimes simply just that. 

She let the models pass and then continued to her next designers’ corner. Happy to find her station already cleared, she began quickly unpacking her things before her first model came. As she reached for her glitter, her eyes caught sight of a flash of silver.

Miwa’s eyes followed the motion unthinkingly, and she was met with a model slowly rising from her seat at the station two spots from her own. She was plenty tall, and her hair was plenty long, and she had a smile almost as bright as her brilliant green eyes. 

Miwa’s eyes lingered over her for a moment longer than was necessary, before she tilted her head back down and grabbed the gold glitter instead.

She saw beautiful women every day. This one was nothing to get worked up about.

-

They met properly during much less stressful circumstances. 

Miwa walked into the set of the photoshoot earlier than anyone else. Security had given her a bit of a hard time, but the mix of nearly shoving her pass at the guard’s face and the classic Kageyama scowl had them falling over themselves to open the door for her soon enough.

Miwa smiled softly. She should make time to visit her brother sometime.

Not that she had much time for vacations. She sighed as she got to the first vanity that was set up, and pulled out her brushes that were still damp from the solution she’d left them in overnight and her cream makeup that needed to adjust to the climate of the room.

She wasn’t the biggest fan of waking up early, but the designer wanted a very intricate look ready by 10 on the dot, and she knew this designer. He would be a pain to work with for the rest of the day if the shoot was even 10 minutes behind schedule.

Miwa was halfway through gently pressing into her brushes to dry them more quickly when the door to the set opened. She looked up interest. It was still early, and she was curious to see which other crew member needed to come in this early.

She was surprised when instead of crew, she saw a model. Not just any model though. The same model she saw a few weeks during Tokyo Fashion Week.

Miwa frowned softly. She had no business recognizing a woman she saw for less than a second.

It was fine. She’d forget her eventually.

“Hello,” the model said, a smile on her lips, and in her eyes and voice. Miwa blinked at how happy she seemed, wondering how it felt to feel so much this early in the morning. “My name is Alisa - or well, Haiba Alisa, but you can just call me Alisa! I didn’t think anyone else would be in here this early too!”

“Likewise.” Miwa placed the brush down though. It wasn’t like she minded Alisa’s presence. It was just unexpected. “I’m Miwa - your hair and makeup for today.”

If Alisa was upset by the lack of surname, she didn’t voice it. Miwa was grateful. The attention that came with the name Kageyama was sometimes a little overbearing.

“Sorry if I interrupted you,” Alisa said, gesturing to where Miwa had placed her brush down. “I’m still pretty new to all this, and this is my first shoot that’s going to be in a major magazine.”

Miwa furrowed her brows. It was strange that Alisa had never photographed for a mainstream magazine, and yet had already walked for fashion week.

Not that Miwa was going to call her out on this. That would mean admitting that she saw Alisa there, that she remembered her well enough to recognize her at first sight now. 

Alisa would probably laugh, not meanly, but the sound would still grate at Miwa’s pride. 

It was better to leave it as is. “It’s okay that you’re here early. Let me look over your card so I can see what looks the designer wants for you.”

Alisa visibly perked up at the words, and Miwa’s lip quirked up at the reaction - only to fall when she read the directions on the card.

The designer wanted a complex braid done, one Miwa knew was simple enough for shorter hair, but would be difficult to modify for Alisa’s long locks. She sighed quietly, but Alisa seemed to still catch the sound.

“Is it the color?” Alisa asked, scooping her hair in her hands to pile over one shoulder. Miwa’s eyes ran over the way the color shifted against the light of the vanity before slowly shaking her head.

“It’s the length, actually.” Her eyes trailed down to where the end’s of Alisa’s hair grazed her ribs before she brought her eyes up to meet Alisa’s gaze. “Most models keep their hair short, and most designers give instructions based on a shorter length.”

A shorter length made the hair easier to manage and shape. Extensions could always be added if length was needed, but if the hair was too long there wasn’t much that could be done. It was easier, as a model, to simply keep your hair at shoulder length or shorter.

Miwa pressed her lips together and wondered if anyone had told Alisa this before. She was so new, and everything about her screamed of it. The offer to cut her hair was heavy on Miwa’s tongue, her hand ready to reach for the scissors in her apron, but Alisa cut her off before she could even ask. 

“No.”

Miwa raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t even asked anything yet. Alisa flushed, seeming to recognize this, but she continued speaking anyway.

“I won’t cut my hair just because it’s the norm here.” Alisa ran her fingers through her hair, and Miwa felt her own hands tingle watching the action. “I know it may be silly, but I like it long. It’s one of the things about how I look that I get to decide, and I don't want to change it just yet.”

Unbidden, a memory of her younger self crossed through Miwa’s mind. Her - teenaged, rebellious, self-determined - refusing to join the volleyball team because she didn’t want to cut her hair. Not because she didn’t like short hair, but because she didn’t like being told what to do with her hair - what to do with herself. 

Miwa nodded, and Alisa lit up again, and suddenly the girl sitting in her styling chair was even more memorable than the average model. 

-

The next time they saw each other was at another photoshoot. Unlike the first one, it was a series of photos Alisa was doing solo.

Part of Miwa was happy. Once the other models had arrived at the last shoot, her time with Alisa had dwindled incredibly. Like this, she was the only stylist on set, and Alisa was the only model she had to tend to.

But it also gave her time to watch. Once she finished up with Alisa, she had to stand at the edge of the shoot, ready to adjust Alisa hair if it fell out of place, or retouch her eyeliner if it started to smudge.

Every time she did it, Alisa would give her a small secret smile, and Miwa would give her one back that she knew looked more strained. 

She blamed her racing heart for that.

Halfway through the day, Miwa took Alisa back to her chair to style her hair for the third time that day. She brushed her hair, trying to untangle it as much as she could with the limited time she had. She absolutely refused to just yank the brush through it. The photographer had already very loudly voiced his frustrations about Alisa’s hair color and how difficult the lighting was to plan around it.

Miwa wondered if that was why Alisa got so few photoshoots. It was a real shame if so.

Either way, Miwa wanted to say something to the other woman. Alisa had mentioned her hair color last time as well, and there seemed to be a weight dragging her usually upturned gaze down.

As the brush finally ran smoothly through a large section of her hair, Miwa found herself saying, “Your hair… have you ever seen Howl’s Moving Castle?”

Alisa made eye contact with Miwa through the reflection of the mirror, and the model knew better than to tilt her hair while Miwa was working, but somehow Miwa could tell she wanted to. “No?”

Miwa felt embarrassment well up in her immediately. She hadn’t considered Alisa saying no, and the idea of trying to explain a children’s movie to the other woman felt humiliating.

“Why do you bring it up?” Alisa asked, not letting the subject drop. Miwa pressed her lips together, but the excitement on Alisa’s face forced words past her lips.

“It’s just an animated movie.” And then a few more. “And your hair color reminds me of the main character, Sophie.” And then just a few more. “It’s nice.”

Miwa twisted her hair in her hands as she finished the final words, eyes trained on how her hands moved and feeling flustered and vulnerable in a way that was unfamiliar to her. When she got Alisa’s hair like she needed, she looked up to see Alisa looking at her through the mirror.

Alisa was an already soft woman. It wasn’t all she was. In just two meetings, Miwa had seen her resolve with her hair, how fierce she could look with a single tilt of her chin, how she remained unflinching at the seemingly never-ending flow of criticism sent her way.

But she was soft in her smile and her touch and the way she carried herself and seemed to float as she moved across the room. She was soft in a way that made Miwa feel her own shoulder ease just at the sight of her.

But the way Alisa was looking at Miwa then was softer than anything Miwa had seen from the model before.

“Your hair is done,” Miwa said quietly as she slowly let her hands fall from Alisa’s head. Alisa’s smile widened a touch, and then someone from lighting was calling her over. 

For the rest of the shoot, whenever Miwa stepped up to make an adjustment on Alisa, the smile she gave her felt just a little more tender.

By the end of the shoot, Alisa’s hair was looking worse for wear. It was a miss of pins and hairspray and tangles, and this was another one of the reasons most models kept their short. Usually, Miwa would just leave after a shoot was over. The model was responsible for taking their make-up off and brushing out their own hair.

But as her eyes lingered over Alisa leaning over a basin of water and towelling off her face, she felt more generous than usual.

“I can wash your hair out for you.” Alisa looked up at the sound of Miwa’s voice, and her eyes looked so wide even without being lined. “It would be better than leaving it like that until you get home.”

Alisa beamed. “That would be great.”

So Miwa led her back to the larger hair basin and gestured for Alisa to sit. She drew out all the pins, gently massaging at the places on Alisa’s scalp that she knew her hair was pulled tight at. She checked the temperature of the water to make sure it wasn’t too cold before guiding Alisa to lean back for her. She shampooed her hair from root to end, and then slowly untangled every knot and snag that had gathered in Alisa’s hair. 

Damp and glistening in the sink, Miwa thought Alisa’s hair outshined Sophie’s easily. 

-

The third time Miwa and Alisa worked together, it was at a fashion show.

But it was not the third time they’d seen each other. In fact, Miwa had met with Alisa a fair amount of times. They had coffee, met for lunch, laughed together at the end of a long day at a bar.

But they didn’t work together often. Alisa mostly did runway, flying across the world to walk for all sorts of designers, while Miwa mostly did photoshoots, staying in Tokyo where there was an abundance of work.

But Miwa didn’t get it, she thought, as she brushed a deep royal purple over Alisa’s eyes. They were backstage at a show smaller than fashion week, but big enough to warrant some big names, and Miwa still did not understand why Alisa didn’t get booked for more photoshoots.

She knew it was her agency who was responsible for what jobs she got, but it still didn’t make sense. Most models who did runway had no issue getting photo gigs. It was usually the opposite - models from every agency all trying to get one of the elusive spots on the runway.

So then why were Alisa’s photoshoots so few and far between?

“Are you alright?” Alisa asked, breaking Miwa from her thoughts. Miwa blinked, realizing she had been rubbing the cream blush into Alisa’s cheek for far too long.

“Just thinking of what I have to do next,” Miwa said with a reassuring smile. That was something new for her. Her smiles had been far and few between too. Now she smiled plenty for Alisa, and often just to make her feel better.

Alisa smiled back. “Sounds like you’re busy. If you do get a break, I’d like it if you could see me walk at some point tonight.”

Miwa did get a break. She was free for the last show of the night, and she made herself to the catwalk that she knew Alisa would be walking. She stood there, the lights of the stage flashing against the lights of the shuttering cameras, and Miwa understood.

She understood why Alisa didn’t do photoshoots. It wasn’t that she couldn’t pose for photos or that her hair clashed with the backdrops. 

It was because it was a waste to have her pose for a camera that would never be able to capture all of her beauty. 

How could a simple camera capture the subtle widening of Alisa’s eyes, or the parting of her lips, or the way her hair fell effortlessly off her shoulder as she turned at the end of the catwalk? Miwa was completely captivated as she watched the same woman she had just been backstage with hours ago walk in front of the audience as if she was a goddess among men.

Alisa Haiba’s beauty was an experience, and the runway was the only thing that truly let it shine.

Once Alisa disappeared from behind the curtain, and another, more forgettable model stepped out, Miwa wondered if anyone had ever seen a person do something as mundane as walking and realize that they were in love with them. She wondered if her realization was a factor of Alisa’s modeling or Alisa herself - and then she thought of Alisa’s reaction to finding out Miwa had been able to see her, and the answer was abundantly clear.

When the night was done, and the audience and paparazzi and socialites were all passing Miwa by as she waited left of the runway, Alisa found her.

“You saw me,” she breathed, voice airy and high and shaking just a bit. “You saw me, I saw you see me.”

“I did.” Alisa’s face was flushed with excitement and exertion, and Miwa wanted to run her fingers over the skin she knew was softer than any brush she owned. “You were incredible.”

Alisa beamed before she grabbed both of Miwa’s hands in her own. “Wash my hair for me again? Please?”

And there were so many people Alisa could’ve asked. The stylist who did the look Alisa was wearing now, any of the extra hands backstage, hell even another model who was in a particularly generous mood. 

But Alisa left backstage to find Miwa, knew somehow that she would be waiting by the catwalk for her, and asked Miwa to wash her hair. 

“Of course I will.”

Miwa followed Alisa back, no one even sparing a second glance at her as they looked for an empty hair station. They found one, secluded and poorly lit, in the back corner of the room. It felt private in a way that made Miwa’s heart rate speed up, and she blindly reached for the hair supplies some other stylist had left behind.

“You know,” Alisa spoke softly as Miwa began to lean her back into the sink. Miwa paused for a moment, but continued with the shampoo nonetheless. It wasn’t unusual for clients to speak while they were getting their hair done.

Alisa was anything but a client, though.

“I like how you’re so bold.” Miwa’s hand twitched at Alisa’s words, but she continued washing her hair. Bold could mean a lot of things. “And how you’re so direct and honest and talented, but I also like how you have the gentlest hands I’ve ever felt.”

Miwa could swear her throat was closing up, but she still managed to squeeze out a chuckle and the words, “It’s because they’re setter hands.”

Miwa tried not to think about what it meant that Alisa knew exactly what she meant. That of all the people in the industry, the people she’d known even longer than Alisa, it was only after the third coffee outing that Alisa learned the significance of her surname.

Alisa shook her head then, and Miwa blinked her eyes in surprise. She knew better than to move while Miwa was working. She glanced down at her only to find Alisa already looking up at her, her neck arching beautifully as she tilted her head back further to make proper eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure that it’s just you,” Alisa said with that smile that melted every corner of Miwa’s heart.

Miwa Kageyama saw beautiful women every day. She learned early on that sometimes a beautiful woman is simply a beautiful woman.

But standing at Alisa’s side, the barely there light still managing to reflect in Alisa’s green, kind, mesmerizing gaze, Miwa knew that sometimes a beautiful woman was so much more than that. Sometimes she was soft, and resilient, and someone filled with the sort of excitement that Miwa knew she would never grow tired of. 

Miwa gathered the towel hanging on Alisa’s shoulders until it was covering all of her hair. As she guided Alisa so she was sitting upright, and moved so she was standing in front of her, hunched over a bit and knee resting in the empty space on the chair between Alisa’s legs.

“If I’m gentle, it’s because you bring it out in me,” Miwa said. She pressed the towel tight around Alisa’s hair one more time before pulling it away. It was still damp as it fell around Alisa, and the sheen of it only made the sheen over Alisa’s eyes shine even more strongly.

“Please show me Howl’s Moving Castle,” Alisa asked as she brought her hand up to curl around Miwa’s wrist before it could stray too far. “I’ve wanted to watch it ever since you first mentioned it, but I didn’t want to watch it without you.”

Miwa didn’t have the words to respond to that, so she simply ducked down to press a kiss against Alisa’s lips, and let her eyes close fully as Alisa rose up to kiss her back.

Miwa’s hands were gentle as they cradled Alisa’s face, and Alisa’s hair shined like starlight as she tipped her head back.

**Author's Note:**

> in a perfect world i would write more for Haikyuu Girls Week, but it is very unlikely i'll have the time BUT i do still have a three part miwasaeko series i want to post eventually, and a kanoyachi fic that i might try and find time for this week!!!
> 
> i hope you liked it!!! if u want to talk abt literally any of the women of haikyuu, pls hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/neenswrites) asdfjasldjf


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